


Sunlit Wings

by shou



Series: Sunlit Wings (and other tales) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Birds, Curses, Fluff and Angst, Loneliness, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prince Kageyama Tobio, Slow Burn, Wing AU, Winged Hinata, shape shifting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-18 10:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7310818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shou/pseuds/shou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prince Tobio has a curse that brings misfortune to those he touches.<br/>Shouyou came from a sunbeam, but lives among the crows.<br/>They're gonna fall in love big time, they just have to beat a lot of obstacles first. </p><p>(Featuring a lonely prince, a frustrated sunbeam stuck in the wrong body, a family of crows, a clan of cats, the owl kingdom, all the humans dragged along for the ride of their live, and the Great Forest Spirit, whose really the cause of this whole mess.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Farewell to a prince!

**Author's Note:**

> so  
> i have been planning this  
> for  
> a while  
> AND ITS ONLY HAPPENING BC OF KAGSHINA AKA LILLY THE BEST GF IN THE WOOOORLD IM SERIOUS THIS IS ONLY HAPPENING BC OF HER SUPPORT AND CHEERING ME ON  
> SHE'S ALSO THE BETA FOR THIS FECK FEST  
> HERE WE GOOOOOOOO

_ His crown is heavy.  _

_ A prince’s crown is simple. A single band, carved with the wheat and rivers of their land, accented with thirteen shards of crystal from the thirteen stones that ride high above the king’s head, adorning his own crown. The prince’s crown is forged from fairy gold, the designs thick and the band thicker. There are thirteen gems inlaid in the metal, their sparkle continuous, the darkness of his locks never draining the stones of their light. The edges that were once sharp are now worn down by time, dull where the edge hits his hair, faded on the inner ring where he  has failed to polish the metal. Yet, while it is indeed time that has worn down the beauty, his fingers have done their own damage. They have rubbed the center of the inner wall, directly behind the largest gem shard placed front and center, rubbed it shiny and soft, warm to the touch from his anxious fiddling. However, his crown bears a burden greater than any pseudo-halo could. His crown bears the burden of his future, of one day replacing it with the king’s crown, of ruling, of becoming the face of the kingdom.  _

_ His crown is heavy, but his curse is heavier.  _

_ Dark magic is not what brings tears to his mother’s eyes as she tears herself away from her son. Dark magic cannot be blamed for his shaking hands, the somber looks cast his way, the muttering and whispering, heavy words that drag the young prince to the ground. The one to blame is his father, the king, the king with too heavy a hand, too strong an army. His father and his lust for power, his father and the whispered command that swept the Forest of Johsai with tongues of fire that consumed the trees and sent up screams of agony from its inhabitants. But as is the misfortune and lack of fairness of the world, it was not his father who paid the price of this disaster. For anyone knows you do not punish the father, already nearing the twilight of his days. You punish the son, the young boy not even old enough to fall in love, the one who will carry on his father’s legacy and ruling hand. His father escaped the punishment in death, death by the fire he created, licking over his body as it fell to the ground only a heartbeat after he declared victory.  _

_ Tobio is thirteen when his hand is cursed with the gift of tragic misfortune. He has not yet stepped foot out of the walls of the city before he is cast into his room where those living in the castle will not ever touch him. He is thirteen when his mother stops cupping his cheek to plant a kiss to his nose, much to his disgruntlement. He is still so young, but in a single breath from the spirit that is the heart of the Forest of Johsai, Tobio learns the true meaning of solitude.  _

 

“Hey! Tobio!” The voice is almost loud enough to catch his attention, but Tobio is  _ so so  _ bored, ready to finally get a change of scenery and leave this god awful room. His bags are packed, his sword lying next to his pencils and quills, all stacked neatly on the book of creamy white sheets his fingers are just  _ itching  _ to cover in new doodles…

“I told you, he’s daydreaming again.” 

“Yeah, which is why I’m shouti–Tobio, I know you can hear us!” 

It’s with a sigh that Tobio looks down from his perch in his windowsill, down to where Yuutaro and Akira are standing while Yuutaro waves a hand to get his attention. At least Akira isn’t waving as well, and he looks about as interested in the exchange as Tobio feels. No, wait, that’s a lie. Because yeah, okay, he’s probably gonna miss those two. Or at least he’ll miss talking to them from his window, dropping pictures he draws for Akira’s botany book in exchange for bits of gossip, the kind of stuff Tobio’s mother leaves out when she comes to speak to him through the screen she insists must always be in place. 

“Hello, Akira,” Tobio calls down, grinning when he hears Yuutaro growl, then yelping and dodging a neatly aimed pebble. “Oi, you airhead, don’t throw rocks at me!” he shouts back, throwing the pebble right back at the spiky hair and laughing grin (yes, Tobio caught that pebble in midair, so what?) 

“We’re here to say you better not get too angsty up in your own personal castle!” Yuutaro calls up, his hands cupped around his mouth, even though the guy really doesn’t need it. He already has that commanding voice that catches anyone’s attention, fit for the future captain of the wall guard. “We’ll send you updates with your mother’s letters! And I’ll even get Akira to write them, so all the words are in the right order!” 

“The words wouldn’t even exist if you wrote them,” Tobio catches Akira mumble, and that has him laughing, grinning as he watches Yuutaro sputter indignantly. “And hey, Tobio, we’re still looking out for your cure. Don’t you forget that!” 

“Yeah yeah, Plant Boy. Don’t you two have somewhere to be or something? Like, I dunno,  _ training?” Don’t make me say goodbye,  _ Tobio is praying, keeping his voice taunting and sharp, not letting any of his worry seep into his words. 

“Training! Kiki, we have to  _ go!  _ Come  _ on!  _ Seeya later Tobio! Wait up for us so we can give you not-hugs!” Yuutaro is throwing over his shoulder, dragging Akira along by his sleeve. This time it’s the shorter boy grumbling, probably some sort of protest at the nickname. As if he hates it, it’s the same nickname Yuutaro has been using since they were kids. 

_ Kids,  _ Tobio thinks.  _ They used to be kids, all playing together, rolling and tumbling and piling up for naps. Ha, what idiots. Idealistic idiots with no sense for the future.  _ He was a dumb kid, a spoiled little brat. He had no idea what a hellfire pit life actually is, once it starts to stab you in the back. Tobio knows better now, after living through two years devoid of human contact, two years of this cursed existence he is somehow still surviving. As prince, he knows he will someday be the loneliest of kings, the only one to sit on his throne, no queen or consort to be found. What human would ever want to marry someone they will never sleep beside, or even brush up against? He knows better than to bring that kind of punishment to a spouse. But… Sometimes, Tobio daydreams. He daydreams about getting a little bit more of his childhood, more running through creeks and chasing shadows, more optimistic smiles and joyful laughter. 

No, no he isn’t allowed to think like that. Tobio stopped allowing himself those kinds of wishes a long time ago. He shakes himself out of his thoughts like a dog, dropping down from the windowsill and stalking over to the door. Enough of this thinking, he needs to call a servant to fetch his mother, who will fetch the chariot to escort him to his new quarters. His hand is on the curved handle of the door for only a moment before it is pushing back, shoving him aside as he stumbles to keep his balance. 

The person at the door is not his mother, not by a long shot. For one, his mother is pale and thin, long black hair falling in limp tendrils around her shoulders. This is a man, tall and broad shouldered, with dark skin and dark hair and even darker eyes. By the look of it, he’s high in the ranks, what with the black velvet that falls in waves from the shoulders of his polished armor. 

“You’re not my mother,” is all Tobio knows to say. 

“Aren’t you a smart one,” the man grumbles, barging his way into the room. He’s unlike anyone else Tobio has encountered these past two years, as he does not shy away from the young prince in any way. He certainly doesn’t touch him, but as he grabs the two large bags containing everything Tobio felt like packing, he doesn’t look scared or nervous. Who is this…?

“Hajime, since you’re wondering.” 

Tobio nearly jumps out of his skin.  _ Did he just read my mind?!  _

“I’m the one in charge of taking you to your new rooms.” 

_ Oh, so he didn’t read my mind. He’s just polite.  _ It’s at least a little reassuring, Tobio supposes, if there could ever be any reason to describe this scenario as “reassuring.” The name does sound familiar though, but Tobio has no time for reflecting on the name of this strangely forward man. His bags are leaving, minus his sword and art supplies, and he is probably supposed to be following. The sword is fastened to his belt quickly enough, and Tobio chases after Hajime with his pencils clutched in one hand, his quills in the other, and the book tucked haphazardly under his arm. 

Unfortunately, Hajime doesn’t slow his pace, his long strides carrying him down the hall at a remarkably swift pace, one that has Tobio jogging to keep up. He’s still in shape, he’s been allowed to run up and down the hall every now and then, and he does exercises in his room, but the run is exhilarating, and Tobio can’t help it if maybe he’s smiling a little bit. The various servants and guards stationed and milling around the edges of the hall all turn their heads at the sight of their prince, dashing after some brutish officer, hair a-fly and face his twisted grin. Tobio’s smile has not been known to charm, but he doesn’t give a rat’s ass. He’s finally going to have a little freedom, even if it is just a whole new prison. 

By the time they reach the courtyard outside, where the chariot is waiting, the magnificent white stallion champing at his bit, Tobio hasn’t even noticed they’re outside. He inhales deeply the moment he stops, finally catching the breeze on his body, the sun on his hair. It’s beginning to be summer, he realizes, the first scorching rays of the summer sun just stretching their fingertips to the land of the humans. Tobio does nothing but breathe for a moment, relishing the feel of the sunlight on his cheeks. He’s always been drawn to his window on sunlit days, turning up pale cheeks and fluttering dark lashes as the warmth of the celestial light brings a flush to his pallor. 

“Hurry up, kid,” grunts Hajime, catching Tobio out of his dreamy state. “Into the cart, you’ve got places to be, and I have work to do. Chikara, take it from here.” He gestures to the soldier positioned at the front of the chariot, reins of the horse held in one relaxed hand. The soldier, Chikara, salutes once, the customary hand to his heart. 

Tobio follows Hajime’s prompt, climbing into the back of the chariot and settling himself against the padded bench, setting his art supplies at his feet and adjusting his sword so it isn’t poking at his hip the whole ride. The chariot moves at a bark from Chikara, the stallion shaking his head and picking up his feet as they pull away from the courtyard, away from the castle, away from Tobio’s home. He watches the palace gates near, and then they are passing under the archway, onto the common road that leads to the high road. This one is lined with soft grass and little blue and white flowers, and Tobio almost wants to reach down and pick some. Almost. 

In the moment he lifts his head to the sky, he sees it. Or, he sees  _ him.  _ Tobio sees a boy, dressed in gold and crowned with light, standing in the center of the road at the gate the chariot has just passed through. He sees the boy looking at him with wide eyes that are unnaturally bright, glowing and soft and calling to Tobio. Tobio nearly jumps out of the chariot then and there, a hand reaching for the beautiful boy that looks more like a reflection of sunlight on fairy gold than any human child. He is too radiant, the light that cradles him too beautiful. 

And then, in a blink, he is gone. 

Belatedly, as he stares at the gate that is growing smaller and smaller, Tobio thinks to himself,  _ I never said goodbye to my friends or to my mother.  _

And as he sits back to look forward, he wants. 

_ I want to see the boy made of sunshine for one more fleeting heartbeat.  _

 


	2. Birds are not welcome here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kids  
> guess whos back  
> back again  
> I WENT ON VACATION LMAO AND FORGOT TO POST CHAPTER TWO TO THIS  
> and yet here it is  
> lmao SHRUGS

Prince Tobio learns the true meaning of loneliness on his sixteenth birthday, as he’s reading the letters from his mother, Yuutaro, and Akira, his nails tearing the edge of the paper as he clutches at the edges. He saved the letters (neither really count as letters, more like… notes) all day, after they arrived that morning by carrier pigeon, tied with a blue ribbon and embellished with silver. The moon’s light makes the paper glow, and the quiet of the stars is deafening as he reads each word carefully, oh so carefully.

“ _ My dear Tobio,”   _ is how is mother starts, and Tobio has to laugh. He stopped being her ‘dear Tobio’ when she gave up on him. But he continues, because it’s his mother, and he may resent her, but he’s still eager to read her words. 

_ My dear Tobio,  _

 

_ I send you the happiest of birthday wishes. I have kept the candle lit at your birth burning since dawn, in hopes it will bring you good fortune in this new year. We have reached the heart of winter, and yet my heart is warm when I think of you, Tobio. I mourn your absence at the end of every day, and each morning as I awaken, I pray for your return.  _

 

_ May your troubles be less, my son.  _

 

_ Love, Mother  _

 

The letter (note) pinches at Tobio’s heart. He always loved the candle she lit, even if the thing was a hideous mass of plain yellow with no real design. His father had hated it. But what really has him shifting uncomfortably and pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders is the words near the bottom, the first line of the song she used to sing to him, the song he hasn’t heard in so, so long. He wants to cry, almost, for a heartbeat, but–

Tobio drops the letter to the floor, drifting under the stool positioned by his window so he has light to read by. His mother’s letters never contain anything of interest. What he really needs to read if he wants to know the goings on of Karasuno Kingdom, is Akira’s letter. 

There is no affectionate greeting from Akira, and it’s not like Yuutaro would prompt him to add one. In a way, the normality of it comforts Tobio, if even a little. 

 

_ Tobio,  _

 

_ Happy birthday. Yuutaro named a scarecrow dummy he was using for archery target practice after you, as we are both highly offended you haven’t snuck out yet to visit. So you live in a tower taller than any building in the city, with no doors to the outside world, and the only open window being at the highest point. Live a little, Prince. Come let Yuutaru shoot the real you with holes.  _

_ You must look perfect against this snow. It matches your sickly paleness. I have a tonic for that, you know. You don’t get out in the sun enough, you’re going to become even paler than that horrible gardener boy, and he’s worse than a white fox in the snow below a full moon. We need you to be healthy when we discover a way to get that foul curse off of you, and a prince that is too sickly to wear his crown his useless to us. Find a way to get some sun, Prince.  _

_ In all seriousness, it’s beginning to become boring here. Somewhere around the third moon Yuutaro started complaining about the absence of your special streak of verbal abuse, and as yet another three moons have passed, I’m inclined to agree with him.  _

 

_ Hurry up and escape, you idiot prince.  _

 

_ Akira  _

 

_ (Taro wants his name signed here too, but as we both know he can’t even hold a quill correctly, there is no chance of his name making it onto this paper.)  _

 

Akira’s letter is the one Tobio tucks into his cloak, safe against his heart, nestled against that itchy feeling that has been poking at his lungs all day. It’s as if someone tried to remove the stuff under his chest, leaving it all caved in and hollow. It’s an unpleasant feeling, but he’s adjusted to it, mostly. If only tonight weren’t so bad, if only that feeling wasn’t spreading to his fingertips, already numb from the cold, and his heart, or what probably would be a heart, if it wasn’t so damn lonely. Because that’s what this is. It’s pure, unmeasurable loneliness. 

He longs for the outside, for the grass on his feet, or the sun on his cheeks. 

He is surrounded by cold, crisp darkness, even the lights in the heavens as frigid as the night air, and Tobio has never missed anything more than he misses the sun in that moment. 

  
  


Winter turns to spring, and Tobio adjusts. It’s been nearly a year. His hair is too long, and his attempt to cut it with the dagger tucked away under his bed failed miserably. It’s too long in the center now, and he constantly has to blow it out of his eyes. At least he doesn’t really have to wear his crown, as nobody here is going to scold him. He ties it up when he’s practicing sword fighting, tying a silver ribbon behind his ears to keep his bangs out of his face as he thrusts and parries and swipes at thin air. There are two books already filled with drawings in the corner, and the third is nearly full itself. Tobio’s life has become dull. 

With the presence of springtime, new art subjects appear. There are birds now, that flit to his window every so often. He can stare out and catch glimpses of the forest far away, and straight down below there is soft green grass, speckled with flowers that are beginning to bloom in a myriad of jeweled hues. The air is heavy now, full of moisture and the coming of warmth, and while the sun’s rays are still too chilly and the breezes still too biting, Tobio can feel summer chasing away the cold, and bringing up the anniversary of his confinement. The letters are slower, now, and Tobio understands this. He does. Yuutaro will be training harder than ever, and the return of the plants will of course have Akira busy. And his mother… She is the queen, after all. Technically, she’s supposed to be running the kingdom. (What a joke.) 

Really, besides draw and practice with his sword, there’s not much else to do. He could bathe, but it takes so long for the fire to heat up enough water to pour into the stone lined basin on the bottom floor. He could dance, but he’s always hated dancing. He could… sing. But singing takes more emotions than he lets himself feel, these days. 

The days are filled with calm, the kind of calm born of stagnant boredom, smothering and stifling, covering Tobio in a blanket of hazy apathy. And as monumental days always are, the day that would bring the event that he would later call the first day of his life came without warning. It came with the same sunrise, the same birds singing, the same almost-warm breeze. The day Tobio would never forget came in the first steps of true summer, on a day when Tobio thought nothing was going to happen at all. 

He rises with the sun, as is his tradition. There had been a small smile tugging at his pale lips as he blinked away, but he shakes it off quickly. Something in his dream, something about warm wings and glowing freckles and a voice like music… 

Tobio sits at the window while he eats breakfast, the simple fish soup and tea left inside the door that locks from the outside at the bottom of his tower. It’s not bad, and there’s even vegetables in the soup, but Tobio doesn’t taste it as he sibs the broth. There’s something in his chest today, something stirred by his dream, most likely. It’s as if someone has tied a string to his heart and is tugging on it, begging for him to go… His mind is scatter-brained as he drains his soup bowl, finishing off the tea in a final gulp. He turns, bowl and cup in hand, and is about to head down the stairs to return the dishes when he hears a squawk.

The loudest squawk he has ever heard. 

He whips around, bowl and cup falling to the floor and shattering, arms raised in defense. He’s ready to fight whatever the hell is at his window, but there’s nothing there. No, wait, he’s looking too high. There, on the edge of his window, is a crow. At least, he thinks it’s a crow. It’s sort of small, and a little scraggly. Its eyes look too big, and is that a flower in its beak? 

The crow squawks again, ruffling its feathers and bouncing around on the window ledge. 

“What do want from me?” asks Tobio, because yes, that’s a reasonable thing to ask a crow.  “There’s no more food here. And can’t you eat that flower?” 

The bird looks at him sharply, squawking again and nearly dropping its flower. 

“What, is that flower for me?” 

The bird flaps its wings once, and gives a tiny hop. 

“Okay…” Tobio feels like a complete idiot as he slowly inches forward, holding out his hand for the little flower. He’s not sure what he expected, but he flinches when the crow drops the flower in his palm. Tobio brings the flower to his face, eying its golden petals. It sure as hell isn’t any flower Akira has shown him, and it almost looks like it’s glowing. He turns back to the crow. 

“Okay thanks, you can leave now?” he snaps, turning his worst glare on the stupid featherbrain. 

The bird does not leave. 

“Oi! Featherbrain! Beat it!” Tobio tries again, flapping his hand in the direction of the stupid thing. The bird does fly up, but it flies  _ into his room.  _ There is a  _ live crow  _ flying around the tower now, and Tobio has every right to make the shriek that escapes his mouth. “No! Get out! Get out you stupid thing get  _ out!”  _ he yelps and cries as he chases after the stupid featherball, waving at it with a spoon, careful not to touch it. His curse doesn’t just work on humans, after all. “Leave my room and me alone, damn it!” 

The bird only squawks again, louder and longer, as it dips and dives and twirls around his room, making little noises that Tobio will  _ not  _ call laughter, because that is a bird, and  _ birds do not laugh.  _ He’s going to kill that thing the moment he catches it. He’s going to kill it and pluck out all its feathers and turn it into soup, and he’s going to mount its head up on the wall as proof he vanquished the annoying creature. Tobio voices every single one of these ideas quite clearly, peppered with curses as he runs around and around, pushing over books and crunching the remains of his bowl and cup under his foot. (Thankfully he had the sense to pull on shoes when dressing.) 

As it turns out, crows are agile, and this one evades all attempts he makes at shooing it away. Tobio is panting when he finally stops, falling to his floor and stretching out on his back, the cool stones pulling the heat straight from his over exerted body. Of all the damned things to happen, he has to somehow have a bird fly into his room. Tobio wants to murder something, preferably something small, black, feather, and loud. 

Something small and sharp pokes at his chest through his thin shirt, his thick, silk jacket abandoned in his pursuit of the crow. 

Silently, Tobio closes his eyes, and prays he won’t see what he thinks he will when he looks down at his chest. 

He looks down, and sure enough, there it is. The bird, the damn crow, is standing directly over his heart. 

And Tobio screams. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcoming THE BIRD   
> also? fun fact: i abSOLUTELY ADORE KAGS AND KINDAICHI AND KUNIMI AND I WISH THEY WERE FRIENDS IN CANON SO HERE WE ARE, PRINCE TOBIO WITH HIS BUDDIES   
> what a loving prince,,, threatening to kill this bird that just brought him a flower,,,,,,   
> chapter three will come around eventually featuring:   
> more bird  
> and more flowers  
> MORE LETTERS  
> and tobio talking to the bird  
> BIRD BIR DBIRDBIRDBIRBBBBBB  
> bye kids im gonna go scream into a pillow now

**Author's Note:**

> SO FIRST OFF  
> im gonna use given names for all the characters bc? why not.  
> and there is going to be A LOT of characters  
> like, all the mains. ALL OF THEM. and some of the sides. holy freck.  
> ill probably updated weekly? yeah. WEEKLY. (unless i get impatient BUT IM GONNA TRY TO PACE MYSELF)  
> this was born of "what if kageyama was an angsty cursed prince and hinata was the literal sun" and it... spiraled  
> (im serious when i say all the characters are going to show up. and there is going to be SO MUCH shipping. oh boy)  
> uh. yep. this isnt great yet, but i have big dreams (u wanna get clarification on anything? or im just a thirsty ho for attention, come love me on tumblr @ sunnysharkie)


End file.
